


this isn’t what it looks like (actually yeah, it definitely is)

by dragonbagel



Series: peter and mj, sittin in a tree [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trans Peter Parker, am I projecting? yes, can i be stopped? never, peter is trans and you can fight me on it!!, this is just completely unrelated to any of the recent movies so no spoilers for like anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 08:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbagel/pseuds/dragonbagel
Summary: It’s quiet. Too quiet. Why is it so quiet? Is he supposed to say something here? Where was the WikiHow page on dealing with your girlfriend walking in on you changing because your super-powered ears aren’t working right? And what if it was even more of a clusterfuck of a situation because, get this: he still hasn’t told MJ.or: mj walks in on peter changing. turns out, they have some things to discuss.





	this isn’t what it looks like (actually yeah, it definitely is)

**Author's Note:**

> i saw ffh and wowie

Peter should have heard her coming.

His hearing has always been pretty good, probably to compensate for his shitty eyesight. And now, jacked up on radioactive spider DNA? It’s beyond ridiculous. He literally has to wear heavy duty Stark-engineered ear plugs to even have a _chance_ of sleeping at night. (Although if the couple four blocks over would just get a divorce already and quit screaming at each other that would probably help, too.)

So the fact that Peter didn’t hear the front door to his own apartment opening? The door that Peter, who exclusively entered through his window using his weird sticky powers, trusted his aunt to lock? The door through which none other than MJ, who was highly intimidating and also maybe-possibly-his-girlfriend, entered, unannounced?

That shit was weird. And terrifying. And the reason he was in his current predicament.

“Hey Peter, you in—“

Fuck his broken spidey sense, and fuck the “great power great responsibility” bullshit, and fuck the whole Avengers gig, because right now, he just wants to be sucked up into the ground and disappear forever.

This was a million times worse than when May had walked in on him in the suit, because at least he’d been clothed that time. Now, MJ was frozen in the doorway staring at him—oh god, she was _staring at him_ —as he stood there like a dumbass in nothing but his Star Wars boxers and his binder. His stupid, _stupid_ fucking binder, that he hated more than anything in the world yet clung to like a lifeline.

He’s pretty sure his brain short circuits. What had he even been doing before this moment, which was quite possibly the worst one in his life? What reason did he have to be practically naked now, of all times?

The sheer mundaneness of the answer was embarrassing in and of itself. He wasn’t about to suit up to fight crime—he was about to take a nap. But only to placate May, who was worried about his late patrol hours! Really!

He would’ve taken any amount of grounding for sneaking out if it meant avoiding _this_.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. Why is it so quiet? Is he supposed to say something here? Where was the WikiHow page on dealing with your girlfriend walking in on you changing because your super-powered ears aren’t working right? And what if it was even more of a clusterfuck of a situation because, get this: he still hasn’t told MJ.

He doesn’t mean the Spider-man thing (which, admittedly, he also hasn’t told her, although he had no doubt she’d already figured it out on her own). No, he means the master fuck-up in his DNA that somehow gave him the wrong set of chromosomes and slapped him into a body that shouldn’t belong to him.

He crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously, a desperate mantra of _maybe she didn’t notice_ playing over and over in his head. Maybe she’d just think he was wearing a tank top. A ridiculously tight tank top that practically blended into his skin and didn’t even look remotely like any actual shirt in the history of mankind.

MJ still hasn’t spoken, and Peter supposes that he hasn’t either. This is somehow even worse than when Mr. Stark found out, which was arguably one of the most embarrassing moments of Peter’s life. Having to return a super cool multi-million dollar super suit for some last-minute tailoring because he didn’t have the...attributes it was designed for? Definitely a low point. Right up there with the time he kinda sorta got a ferry torn in half. Oops.

“So are you gonna put some clothes on, or…?”

MJ’s voice snaps Peter out of his walk through his fuck-up hall of fame.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” He cringes at the pitch of his voice, shooting a web at one of his various discarded shirts that May would kill him for not putting away.

It’s only after he’d slid the shirt over his head that he realized what he’d done.

“Wait, it’s, uh, not what it looks like!”

Rather than shocked, or angry, or any other negative emotion that Peter’s anxious brain could think of, MJ looks...amused? No, that couldn’t be right.

“Really, Parker?”

Peter scrambles to reply. “Yeah, see, uh, sometimes for the Stark internship, Mr. Stark has me help out with Spider-man stuff...sometimes.”

MJ just blinks at him. Peter’s brain interprets that to mean _keep talking._

“And, like, I was just trying out a new look, and it’s—it’s—why are you even here?”

It’s only after he finally shuts up that Peter realizes he’s shaking.

“The door was open,” MJ replies, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world.

“And you took that to mean _come in_?” Peter wrings his hands in front of him, trying to restrain himself from literally pacing up the walls.

“Yep. And aren’t you supposed to have, like, freaky hearing or whatever?”

Peter nearly chokes on his spit. “What?”

“Y’know.” MJ waves her hand for emphasis. “Part of the whole insect thing.”

Peter can’t stop the words from tumbling out, and shit, this may be a new contender for a top spot his long-ass list of embarrassments. “Spiders aren’t insects.”

He freezes when he realizes what he said. “Wait, I didn’t mean—“

MJ takes a step closer. “Shove it. You and Ned are _so_ shit at keeping secrets.”

Peter figures there’s no point in denying it, deflating slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we kinda are.”

He attempts a weak smile, although he’s sure MJ can see right through it.

“And this whole...thing?” She gestures to his general chest area, and Peter is once again painfully reminded that he’s still in his underwear.

Peter braces himself. This is it. The rejection, the disgust. He should be used to it by now, but for some reason it still stings.

“Look, I know I should’ve told you, but it’s kind of awkward—well, not as awkward as when Ned came in while I was giving myself a shot and passed out, but now I have to take this weird extra-strength T that doesn’t even _come_ as a shot because I have this crazy metabolism, and—“

“Peter.”

He freezes mid-sentence, mouth slightly agape. He feels like a fish out of water. An incredibly embarrassed, half naked fish.

MJ looks at him with something akin to sympathy, which is weird, because Michelle Jones doesn’t _do_ sympathy.

“You remember my little sister?” Peter nods mechanically, the gears in his head whirring in overtime because _what the hell does this have to do with anything_? “Yeah, well, he goes by Zach now.”

If Peter had figured out how to close his mouth before, it would’ve fallen back open again.

“Oh,” is all he manages to get out.

“Yeah. So if you thought you were special, get over it.” Her words hold no malice, and Peter finds himself beginning to relax.

“So you’re not mad?”

MJ stares at him like he just grew another head. At this point, Peter wouldn’t even be surprised if he had.

“Of course I’m not mad. Although this wasn’t exactly how I imagined seeing you in your underwear for the first time.”

Peter can feel his face heating up, averting his gaze to the ground. “Oh, I, uh—“

He’s cut off by the pressure of MJ’s lips against his. When she pulls back, it’s like all the breath has been sucked out of his lungs, and his face feels even redder. If that’s even possible.

“That was...nice.”

“Yeah,” MJ says, and Peter totally doesn’t take some satisfaction in the fact that her cheeks are also flushed. “Now go put some pants on before May gets back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter replies with a grin.

MJ raises a brow at him, amused. “God, you’re such a dork.”

The fondness in her look has Peter practically tripping as he slides on a pair of jeans, super enhanced balance be damned. “You know you love it.”

MJ sighs. “Yeah, I guess I do. But you’re still a loser.”

Peter leaves a peck on her cheek. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt everyone’s experience w dysphoria, but i tried to draw on my own thoughts and emotions as a trans person yknow
> 
> pls leave comments/kudos


End file.
